


A Sacrifice Unfated

by ShutUpPercy



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShutUpPercy/pseuds/ShutUpPercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Annabeth had made a very different choice when asked to give herself up to the Romans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sacrifice Unfated

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are owned by Rick Riordan, and the first paragraph of this fic is taken directly from The Mark of Athena to set the place.

Annabeth wanted to sob.  Camp Half-Blood was the only real home she’d ever known, and in a bid for friendship she had told Reyna exactly where to find it.  She couldn’t leave it at the mercy of the Romans and travel halfway across the world.

Her hands shook.  “Fine,” she whispered.

Reyna didn’t miss a beat as she whipped out a length of rope and strode across the courtyard.  “Turn around.”

“If this goes wrong - when your pretty little city burns down with the rest of the world -”

“Turn around!" 

 Reyna’s voice cut harder than the rope did.  Annabeth swallowed and set her jaw as she let the praetor bind her hands with a lot more force than she felt necessary.

_You’re a disappointment.  A Greek, giving herself up?  You were never a worthy daughter._

Willing her mother’s voice out of her head, Annabeth thought about the coin that lay at the bottom of her pack.  This meant she was going to die without following the Mark; how could she help her camp?  Her friends?

And Percy.  Oh, gods, Percy…

“Will you move?” Reyna snapped.  Her dogs growled next to Annabeth’s heels.

“I’ve just given myself up -” Annabeth hissed, forcing her feet into motion, but Reyna cut her off. 

“I thought you were a daughter of Athena.” Her tone was lethal.  “Advertising the fact that you did this voluntarily and not as a prisoner isn’t going to save either of our camps.   _Move_.  You must have some acting skills if you survived all this time.”

Annabeth glared.  “I don’t think any amount of screaming and faked struggling on my part is going to be helpful on yours.”

Reyna’s expression faltered.  “Percy.”  It was a statement, not a question.

Refusing to let herself cry, Annabeth nodded.  “He won’t let you take me away.”

“Is there any way you can get a message to him?  To tell him -”

“Are you serious?”  Annabeth’s voice rose so quickly that the dogs growled.  “You’re asking me to tell him to let me die?  You think that’ll work?”

There was a pause, before Reyna picked up her javelin in one hand and roughly grabbed Annabeth’s arm in the other.  “Walk,” she snarled, taking off towards the docks.

"I could get out of your grip in a second if I wanted to.” Annabeth’s words were caustic.  “What do you think I spent ten years at camp for?”

“For the gods’ sakes, fake unconsciousness then!” Reyna snarled.

There was a silence.  Annabeth stared at Reyna for a few long seconds, but the praetor's cold expression betrayed no emotion.

She swallowed, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to fall backwards.  The javelin clattered as it fell to the ground, and two strong arms gripped her, flipping her upside down and over Reyna’s shoulder.

Reyna took off.  Annabeth could barely marvel at the speed that the girl could run at, even when weighed down with full armour and another body, without breaking the concentration it took to prevent herself from biting off her own tongue.

They were nearing the docks; Annabeth could hear the commotion of the Argo II preparing for flight, and the sound of the Romans doing their very best to slow them down.

“Let her go!”  Piper’s voice sliced through the air, soaked with charmspeak that collapsed due to her evident panic.

Reyna ran faster, and it took all of Annabeth's willpower to stay still.  “Romans, in the air!” Reyna’s voice was panicked.  Annabeth was close to crying as she was flung onto the back of an animal; a pegasus.

And then came the shout she’d been dreading.  Percy’s scream was distraught, disbelieving, broken.  “No!  No!  We have to get her back - Jason -”

Another voice cut through, this one smug and triumphant.  “Traitors to Rome!  You _really_ thought you could get away with this?”

“Octavian, for once in your life will you do something useful and shut up?” Reyna scolded as their pegasus took off.  Her words were short, as though she was struggling for breath.  With her eyes closed, Annabeth couldn't tell whether it was due to exertion or panic.  “If they follow us…”

If the others followed them, they’d win.  A bunch of eagles and chariots in the air was no match for a warship armed with cannons designed by someone as skilled as Leo.  If they attacked the Romans, it would make a war between the two camps inevitable.

Annabeth couldn’t bear Percy’s yells.  She wished she could open her eyes, just for a second, to get a final glimpse of him, but she couldn’t take the risk.

The air around them began churning.  Reyna cursed violently and her pegasus jerked upwards, trying to escape the air in Jason’s control.  Annabeth didn't want to imagine the expressions on her friends’ faces.  Leo would be blaming himself, yet the eidolons weren’t even his fault.  Hazel would be in shock.  Piper and Frank would likely be wishing they’d done more during the fight, and Jason would feel betrayed by Reyna.  And Percy…

“Are they following?” someone yelled.

“Not anymore!”

There was a chorus of triumphant shouts, and Annabeth realised they were because of her.  They thought they’d managed to capture the girl who had led the warship to Rome in the first place.  They weren’t even giving Reyna any recognition, and as far as she could hear, Reyna wasn’t participating in the conversation. 

The journey was hellish.  The position Annabeth was in was far from comfortable, and she had no choice but to listen to the sickening jokes the Romans exchanged as she tried not to be sick.  If she’d fought; if she’d ran when Reyna approached her those short hours ago - was it hours that they’d been flying for? - perhaps she’d be safe with her friends, speeding towards the ancient lands.  Yet she’d chosen to give herself up, and no one would ever know the sacrifice she had made.  They’d think that Annabeth Chase had been overpowered.  She would be remembered for being executed for a crime that she hadn't even committed.

“Pretend to wake up.”  Reyna’s voice was a nothing more than a whisper; Annabeth could barely hear it over the wind.

She allowed herself one second, two, to prepare herself, before she groaned.  “No, no,” she murmured weakly, feeling hollow inside as the Romans turned to look at her. 

“Sleeping Beauty’s awake, eh?” someone sneered.  It was the scrawny blond - Octavian.

“You can’t do this!” Her protest turned to a shout as she twisted around, struggling, trying to tear through the rope around her wrists, but a hand stopped her.

“Watch it, princess.” The hatred in Reyna’s eyes and the venom in her words were either some incredible acting, or something different entirely, and the force with which she pinned her down certainly wasn’t an attempt at gentleness.  Choking back a sob, Annabeth let herself go limp.

Annabeth had “woken up” just in time for the Romans to land, jeering and yelling like, well, Romans.  Reyna gave her a harsh glance as she pulled her off the pegasus’ back, barely allowing her to stumble into a standing position before grabbing her bound arms.

The Romans were organised, if anything; within a minute of Reyna's shouted orders, the soldiers were dispersing towards their various duties - reporting on the battle, and repairing damages.  Annabeth knew that if the Greeks had emerged victorious from a fight with such a valuable prisoner, she'd have a hard time settling them down.  Perhaps she was just used to the Greeks' way of doing things, but it made her a little uneasy how all the Romans - a group of children in a summer camp - mindlessly followed Reyna's commands.

All except one.

“I bet you never thought you’d end up like this.”  Octavian’s smirk made Annabeth’s stomach churn.  She could feel Reyna behind her, but what had she to lose?  She spat on him.

Octavian screeched like a trampled puppy and muttered curses towards the Greeks as he stumbled away and broke into a run, probably towards the nearest bathroom.  Annabeth allowed herself to laugh.

“Really?” Reyna’s breath was hot on the back of her neck as she pushed Annabeth forward. She didn’t reply.

They’d landed in between the camp and the city, and the walk towards the camp felt mortifying.  Days before, she’d been the anticipated leader of the Greeks, flying over from Long Island with a hero lost for eight months and a promise of saving the world.  Now, she was being imprisoned, trialled, and likely executed for something no demigod had done.  Reyna very deliberately stepped on her heels whenever she slowed down.

“What are you doing?”

Reyna halted, almost pulling Annabeth over.  “Julia, please go back to the city, you can’t-”

“But she’s the nice boy’s friend! Percy’s!”

Ice running through her veins, Annabeth twisted around as hard as she could to face the speaker.  Reyna didn't stop her.  To her surprise, it was a little girl - gap-toothed and pigtailed, with an expression flickering between rage and upset.

Reyna gave Annabeth a look that clearly said: _run, and I will not hesitate to throw a spear at you - and you know as well as I do that I will not miss_.  Then, she knelt down so she was at eye level with the girl; Julia.  “Look, dear, it’s complicated and it’s not something you want to get mixed up in, I swear.”

“You’re meant to be fighting the monsters together, not being monsters to each other,” Julia said crossly.  The words hung in the air for a few seconds, their innocence startling.

“You know what?  That’s completely true,” Reyna replied, her voice trembling a little.  “But... everyone is confused, and bitter, and we need to work something out.”

“So, what are you doing with her?”  Julia pointed at Annabeth.

The two demigods exchanged a glance - “execution” wasn’t a word people generally wanted to teach a six-year-old.

Annabeth swallowed.  “What Reyna said; working things out.  And to do that, we have to do a bit of pretend play.”  She tried to sound cheery as she showed the little girl her tied wrists.  “Is that alright?”

Julia looked between them for a long moment, before mumbling, “I guess,” and running back towards the city, her blue dress shrinking as she darted down the hill. 

For a couple of seconds, Reyna watched her like an eagle its prey, before turning round and violently shoving Annabeth forward.  She didn’t bother protesting as she was marched to the camp.

She blocked out the jeers, the shouts, the laughs - and the few that paled and turned away, shaking their heads.  Reyna didn’t seem to take satisfaction from the praise heaped on her for capturing a Greek; if anything, she walked faster, pushing Annabeth in front.

When a thrown stone caught Annabeth's knee, however, almost causing her to fall, Reyna stopped.  “Who threw that?”

A silence blanketed the shouts like a mute button had been pressed.  Reyna dropped Annabeth’s hands and stepped away.  Annabeth glared at the building a few metres away; a huge structure of gleaming white marble, heavily guarded, but she didn’t feel in the mood to appreciate the architecture.

“We try to continue the legacy of Rome in this camp and city,” Reyna said, her voice steely.  “But we also try to show a human respect to everyone - including our prisoners.  Traitor or not, you don’t scream obscenities and throw rocks at _anybody_.”

There was a shamed silence as Reyna dragged Annabeth into the building.

 

* * *

 

Slamming the doors, Reyna swiftly untied the rope binding Annabeth's wrists and tilted her head to stare at the ceiling.  There was a huge mosaic glittering above them - a detailed artwork of Remus and Romulus next to Lupa.  Annabeth had to admit the place was beautiful, but when a stairway in the corner leading to iron bars caught her eye, her heart sank again.

Ignoring the pain in her leg, she scanned the room.  Most of the space was occupied by a large, wooden table which was stacked with so much paperwork that she winced.  Dusty, framed photographs were cluttered on top of the filing cabinets and cupboards that lined the walls.  The only two chairs in the room were ornately designed and looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Sometimes they disgust me,” Reyna murmured, dumping the rope in a bin tucked underneath the desk.

Annabeth blinked, then set her jaw.  "Really?" she asked, bitterly.  "I thought my attempted stoning was a charming introduction to your _civilised_ camp."

Clenching her fists, Reyna turned away.  "It was a rock, Annabeth," she said.  She enunciated her name, showing a hint of an accent and a lot of asperity.  "I don't doubt you've been through worse."

Reyna rummaged in a drawer for a second, before emerging with a thick bundle of keys in various shades of dirty metal.  Without an explanation, she unlocked the heavy metal door leading away from the stairwell, and waited.  Hands shaking, Annabeth followed.

“Holding cells?”

Reyna’s voice was cold when she replied.  “Yes.”

“Anyone else in here at the moment?”

“No one.  Get in.”

The corridor was cramped, lined on either side with tiny cells equipped with only a hard bench each.  At the end was a row of cubicles; likely toilets or showers.

Opening the door of the first cell on the right - it was more like a gate, just a row of long iron bars - Reyna gave Annabeth a hard stare.

“When’s my trial?” she asked first.

Reyna’s tone was still bitter, as though it wasn’t her own fault that Annabeth was here.  “Tomorrow, probably.”

“And how long after I lose until my execution?”

The praetor’s eyes narrowed.  Annabeth counted the heartbeats until she answered. “Day after.”

Annabeth walked slowly to the cell, and sat down on the thin bench.  The lights flickered.  Reyna swung the door shut, locked it, and left without a word.

 

* * *

 

Much later, Reyna swept in, allowed Annabeth to finally use the bathroom, handed her a bottle of water, and advised her to get some sleep before locking up the principia.  Apparently the praetor had never tried sleeping in the harshly minimalistic holding cell; the plastic bench wasn’t wide or long enough to lie down on, so she ended up on the floor, her back against one wall, her feet touching the other, and her head awkwardly against the corner of the bench.

Typically, on the one night she’d welcome a dream that gave a glimpse of the present or past - a tiny peek of what her friends were doing - her only dreams were increasingly violent nightmares fantasising her death.  She woke with a start every time, shaking and sweating before falling back asleep to another.

After a particularly graphic depiction, she sat up so suddenly that she hit her head off the bench.  She cursed quietly, trying to control her heart rate. 

There was a clatter of keys and shoes on hard floor, and suddenly Reyna was standing on the other side of the bars.  “Pluto’s pauldrons, what are you -”

Annabeth scrambled to her feet, wincing at her stiffness.  “I had a nightmare and bumped into the shelf that you have the cheek to call a bench,” she scowled. 

“Oh.  I thought you were trying to break out,” Reyna commented.  She disappeared upstairs again.

Blinking, Annabeth rubbed the back of her head and grabbed the bottle of water from the floor.  There wasn’t a single window in the corridor, and she had no idea what time it was.  All she knew was that she was starving, and that she had a splitting headache from her lack of sleep and the way she’d woken from it.

“It’s eight in the morning, and your trial’s at four,” Reyna supplied, as though reading her mind.  Annabeth jumped again.  Reyna re-entered the corridor, dragging a chair behind her and setting something on it before unlocking the cell door.  “You know where the bathroom is.” 

Annabeth raised an eyebrow.  “The word 'bathroom' feels like a far stretch.  It’s horrible,” she said lightly as she walked towards the cubicles.  A minute later, she emerged, feeling slightly refreshed from the water she’d splashed on her face.

“Do you want a coffee?” Reyna gestured to the chair.  Two takeaway cups were nestled in a cardboard holder, beside a paper bag.

Glaring, Annabeth pushed past her.  “We’re on the same tentative side, maybe, but please don’t act like we’re friends.”

If Reyna was hurt or fazed by the statement, she didn’t show it.  “I'm not.  I asked if you wanted coffee.”

She hesitated, but the allure of caffeine won over spite and she accepted the drink.  Reyna pushed the bag into her other hand as she shouldered Annabeth back into the cell, locked the door, and settled into the chair with her own cup.

"Keeping me company?" Annabeth asked.  Reyna stared back, unimpressed.

Biting back a smile, Annabeth unwrapped the brown paper to find a warm pastry.  She pushed it aside.  “I’m not hungry.” She was, but she doubted she could keep anything down.

“Eat some of it,” Reyna ordered, sipping her drink.  The scent of her hot chocolate wafted through the cramped room, and Annabeth’s stomach twisted at the memory of drinking it with her in the Garden of Bacchus; at the memory of trusting and siding with the Romans.

An uneasy silence fell.  There wasn’t much to say.  The coffee was nice enough, but Annabeth could only pick at the food before pushing it and the empty cup through the bars.

“I went all the way to the baker’s for that,” Reyna said, pretending to be miffed as she crouched to pick up the rubbish.

“It’s a shame it tastes like cardboard." 

Reyna flinched.  When she stood, she seemed conflicted, and took a few seconds to meet Annabeth's eyes.  "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she said, quietly.  Annabeth stared at her, and she shrugged.  "I don't regret this; I believe it's the best option, but I don't like it and you certainly don't deserve it.  I guess that makes this a pretty useless apology, but... sorry."

Annabeth nodded slowly.  It wasn’t the sort of statement you could dismiss with forgiveness.

Swallowing, Reyna made to leave before jumping and dropping the packaging.  “Wait here,” she said quickly - as if Annabeth could go anywhere - and ran upstairs.

Curiously, Annabeth crept closer to the front of the cell and listened intently for what had caused Reyna to seem so panicked.

“You have no right to march in here like that, Octavian.”  Reyna’s voice was low, threatening.

Annabeth had to concentrate to hear the reply.  “As the augur of this camp -”

“I still have much more authority than you, and am the only one with unlimited access to the principia,” Reyna cut in.  “Get out.”

“She’s a prisoner,” Octavian whined.

“And she still deserves respect, not people like you gawking at her - don’t you dare!” 

Standing quickly, Annabeth watched in mild disbelief as Octavian raced into the corridor and skidded to a halt in front of the cell, Reyna following immediately after.

He moved until he was standing directly in front of the bars.  Annabeth forced herself meet his eyes as he smirked.  “I’ve been waiting to see a Greek like this for a long time.” 

Annabeth contained a shiver and looked at Reyna as the praetor huffed and resigned herself to leaning against the opposite wall.  “Do I have any legal obligation to speak to this kid?”

“None.  Maybe if you ignore it, it’ll go away.”

Octavian scowled and ignored the jibe.  “You might think that your little sacrifice will save your camp, but you’re very wrong for a so-called daughter of the wisdom goddess.”

“Sacrifice?”  Annabeth forced a laugh.  “I’m not sure what you mean.  I don’t usually allow myself to get locked up in cells this small.”

Sniffing, the skinny augur took a step back and scanned the room.  “Why are there two cups?” he inquired coldly.

Reyna flushed.  “Because I was at a café anyway, and I’m not one to cut my nose off to spite my face and go to another shop purely to buy her water,” she replied, her smooth tone a contrast to her panicked expression “Would it be too much to ask you to leave now so I can get work done?”

Turning on his heel, Octavian sulked out of the holding cells.  Reyna flashed Annabeth an apologetic glance before picking up the packaging again and leaving, locking the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

Annabeth had never been more bored in her life. 

The repetition of the three blue-grey walls and the bars replacing the other made her feel agitated, and unable to concentrate on anything except the wood between her fingers as she anxiously rubbed her camp necklace.  She couldn’t welcome Reyna’s reappearance more when, hours later, the praetor slipped into the corridor carrying an armful of clothing and unlocked the cell door.

Reyna pushed the garments and a couple of tiny travel toiletries into Annabeth’s hands.  “Go shower.” 

“Are these yours?” she asked, balancing the white shirt and jeans on one arm and tucking the towel under the other.

Reyna gave a tired smile as she nodded.  “I thought clean, plain clothing would do you better in the trial than a dirty, Greek camp t-shirt.”

Murmuring her thanks, Annabeth slipped into the shower cubicle and gratefully washed the past few days’ grime off, before dressing in Reyna’s clothes.  The jeans were slightly too big around her waist until she adjusted the elastic, and the shirt hung to the top of her thighs, but they felt much more comfortable than what she’d been wearing for the last forty hours. 

When she emerged, hair dripping but clean, Reyna was kneeling on the floor.  She waved a comb and gestured for Annabeth to sit down.  Annabeth decided not to argue.

Wordlessly, Reyna started untangling her hair.  After a few seconds Annabeth let out a low laugh.  “Déjà vu, much?”

“Oh gods, yes,” Reyna murmured.  “Except you kept your hair a lot better back then - it’s more split ends than not.”

Annabeth chuckled quietly, remembering the way a much younger Reyna had talked and laughed with her friends as she threaded gold through a braid.  “What happened to the other girls?” she asked.

Reyna’s hands faltered.  “They died,” she said, shortly.  “Or maybe they found another way to escape, or managed to stay on the island, but Hylla and I are the only ones that I know to have survived.” 

Gods of Olympus.  When Annabeth had tossed that tiny vitamin she hadn’t been thinking about the effects of what she was doing; only that she wanted to free Percy.  She tried to remember the faces of the other servants that had brushed and braided her hair, chatting carelessly and exchanging amused glances every so often, but the images wouldn’t appear.

“I’m sorry,” she said, softly.  There was no reply.

Eventually, Reyna pinged a hair tie into place at the end of what felt like a French braid, and fiddled with it a little more before standing up.  Annabeth’s fingers drifted to it as she got to her feet, and she raised an eyebrow.  “A ribbon?  Really?” 

Sighing, Reyna collected the hair supplies.  “The younger and more innocent you look, the less likely the court will want to burn you alive.” 

Annabeth suddenly felt cold all over. "Are you joking?" she asked, uneasily.

Reyna winced as she shook her head.  “Why do you think I said 'painfully executed' when you gave yourself up?" she said, tonelessly.  "It’s the capital punishment for enemies of the state.”  She picked up a length of rope and ordered Annabeth to turn around before looping it around her wrists.

“I could get out of these,” Annabeth pointed out, testing the bonds and trying not to think about being burned alive.

“Well, don’t.” 

She suddenly remembered the camp beads around her neck, but she didn’t want to take them off. It didn't matter, anyway; the Romans would expect her to show loyalty to the Greeks.   “Don’t you have preliminary hearings before your trials?” Annabeth asked, a thought crossing her mind.  The line in the prophecy - ' _to storm or fire the world must fall'_ \- did that have anything to do with her likely execution?

“Yes - yours was this morning.  We’re efficient like that,” Reyna said lightly, gripping Annabeth’s arm so that she could make her way up the stairs with tied hands without falling over.  When they were in the main principia, she looked her in the eye.  “I can’t take you to the court; you’ll be escorted by guards who will probably do nothing to discourage jeering.  Sorry.  When the trial starts, you need to tone down your glaring and talk about much you’ve done to save the world, and try as hard as you can to convince everyone that it was the eidolons.  You're on your own.  Find the words to get yourself out of this.”

Annabeth took a deep breath.  “You’re acting like you want me to win the trial.”

Reyna glanced towards the principia door, then said, "I do. A trial that ends in your death will only calm the thirst for Greek blood, and only temporarily.  If you win, then not only will your life be saved, but the war will be against Gaia and not your camp.”  She paused for a second.  “But... please don’t get your hopes up.  It’s unlikely.”

“Thanks,” Annabeth said, drily.

Huffing, Reyna walked to the closed doors and swung them open.  She gave an order that Annabeth couldn’t quite make out, but the gist of it became clear when six soldiers barged in.  Two grasped Annabeth’s forearms, and the others surrounded her.

“Nice to know that I’m a threat,” Annabeth muttered, glaring at the girl holding her right arm.  Her lip curled and a kick landed on the back of Annabeth’s ankle, which Reyna saw.

“Don’t,” she snapped.  “You’re not taking out your anger on her all the way to the court.  Act your ages.”

Reyna’s eyes flashed a silent  _good luck_ as the soldiers pulled Annabeth from the principia.

 

* * *

 

Annabeth had been worried about backlash from the camp, but apparently Reyna’s outburst the day before had subdued them.  That, or they just weren’t sure whether her guards would turn a blind eye or not.   Aside from a couple of inconspicuous nods from people she recognised as Percy’s friends, the Romans turned away as if she didn’t exist.

It was better than rocks.

The path was deserted as she was marched to the city, and silent apart from the snide comments that the soldiers whispered to each other, their gazes skipping across Annabeth like they were transporting immobile evidence and not a demigod.

When they reached the city, it took effort to bite down a tide of sarcastic remarks.  Annabeth looked defiantly upwards as Terminus popped into existence in front of them.  They’d arrived at the Pomerian Line faster than she’d expected.

“You again,” the statue said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I assure you, it’s not my choice,” Annabeth lied, glaring at her guards.  One replied with a malicious smile.  The others ignored her.

“We’re unarmed,” one of the Romans assured, as they held out their tattooed forearms for the statue to check.

There was a rustle in one of the bushes beside the pedestal, and Annabeth’s heart sank like a stone when the little girl - Julia - appeared.  Silently praying to any god or goddess that would listen to her that the girl wouldn’t say anything that would get her into trouble, she pretended not to hear Terminus’ angry muttering and glared at the streets in front of her.

Someone shoved her forward, and all she heard was a quiet “good luck” from the same small voice that had argued with Reyna the day before.  Annabeth choked back a sob.

 

* * *

 

She’d been expecting a magnificent building - it was New Rome, after all.  Instead, the senate house looked like a school assembly hall.

Seats were tiered around a central podium which held only a couple of unoccupied chairs and Reyna’s dogs, who arched their backs and growled as they entered.  The first row of seats was clustered with campers wearing togas and angry expressions, and the next few were squirming with agitated-looking ghosts.  Annabeth’s guards pulled her towards the podium, and she couldn’t be more aware of the eyes on her back.

“I watched this place get blown up,” she said, cautiously, well aware that many of the people in the room blamed the event on her and her friends.

Someone twisted her arm as she was led to the right of the chairs.  “It’s not usually as minimalistic as this, but there’s only so much you can rebuild in a few days.”  The reply was bitter.

The tension dragged on for what felt like hours, before the principia doors finally banged open.  Reyna was glowering as she stormed onto the podium, gripping a folder and followed by a smirking Octavian, who sauntered to the front of the room.  Aurum and Argentum snapped to attention.

Clearing her throat, Reyna waited for the murmuring to die down before she spoke.  “This is a case with incredibly serious accusations, and as such, we won’t go through formalities.”

“Isn’t that all the more reason to go through formalities?” someone challenged. 

Reyna glared at the asker.  “It’s all the more reason why I, and most of the senators, want it over and done with as soon as possible.”  She walked to one of the chairs in the middle of the podium, but didn’t sit down.  “It’s also the first case with such a serious accusation that has been brought in front of I and the senate since our former praetor, Jason Grace, disappeared.”

She lifted a folder, shaking the contents out into her hand.  “Aside from that being a major inconvenience to the court, Jason’s disappearance also plays a major part in the situation we’re dealing with today.”  She flicked Octavian a look that clearly said, _don’t you dare interrupt me_ , before leafing through the papers and continuing.  “The series of events that has led to this trial, and a lot more, started with Juno.  As part of her plan to win an inevitable war against the rising earth goddess, Gaia, she took demigods Jason Grace and Percy Jackson from their respective camps, sending Jason to Camp Half-Blood, which follows Greek tradition, and later guiding Percy to our Roman one.”  Reyna’s eyes narrowed.  “You’ll remember that only days ago Percy, a son of Poseidon, and, ahem, companion of the defendant in this trial, helped us win a fight against the giants in our own camp and city." 

There was a condescending cough, and Reyna's posture tensed as she turned to Octavian.  The augur only gave a thin smile.  “Praetor, I wouldn’t dare accuse you of anything against the principles of Rome, but you do sound a little, ah… biased.” 

“I am biased against executing sixteen-year-olds,” Reyna said, icily.  “I have been praetor for over a year without ordering any deaths, and I would like to keep my track record clean.  I will, however, do what is in the best interests of this legion, as lies my loyalty.  May I continue?”

Octavian’s eyes were narrowed, but he nodded almost incomprehensibly as Reyna faced the senate again.  “On June 25th, the Greek demigods, including the defendant, and Jason arrived here, unarmed except from their warship,” - Annabeth caught snickers from the Lares - “to discuss how to defeat the giants and Gaia, and to put the prophecy in action.”  She took a deep breath.  “The ship opened fire on our city, naturally causing chaos.  We’re as yet unsure whether this was planned by the Greeks, or if another force planned it to cause another civil war.”

“What kind of other force?” someone called skeptically.

“Eidolons.”

There was a stunned silence.  Some senators stiffened, some raised disbelieving eyebrows, and some just stared in confusion.  Annabeth ignored the accusing eyes fixed on her.

“The claim is that an eidolon, which is a spirit with the ability to take control of machines and bodies, took control of Leo Valdez, one of the seven of the prophecy,” Reyna explained.  “The only person with Valdez as the ship fired was our witness, Octavian.”

Annabeth winced.  Of course he would be called as witness, but his statement would likely be more than “biased”.  Judging from Reyna’s stony expression, the praetor agreed.

Smirking, Octavian stepped forward and faced the praetor.  Reyna swallowed.  “Octavian, you swear on the Styx that you will not tell anything but the truth in your statement?”

He gave a thin smile.  “I swear it on the river Styx,” he promised.  Quietly, the two metal dogs moved to sit threateningly on either side, and Annabeth bit back a smile as Octavian’s shoulders tensed.

There was a pause.  “What happened when you went onto that ship?” 

Octavian faced the senate as if he were performing for an audience rather than campaigning for a teenager’s execution.  “The boy was generally being a pest - jeering and treating me like a three-year-old - but after maybe twenty minutes in the ship he stopped playing video games with his controllers and pushed past me towards what he’d already boasted was the main controls for weaponry.”

He let this hang in the air for effect, but Reyna took her chance.  “As if he was maybe suddenly possessed?”

The augur straightened in annoyance.  “Possibly, Praetor, but more like he suddenly dug up the courage to carry out a plan to attack our city.”

“What was that you said about bias?” Annabeth interrupted before she was able to stop herself.  The guards muttered angrily, but the lift in Reyna’s features and the irritation in Octavian’s made up for it.

“Chase, you are not permitted to speak,” Reyna said lightly.

Annabeth apologised brightly as Octavian scowled. 

“Anyway,” he resumed stiffly.  “I realised what was happening the second Valdez’s fingers hit the buttons.  I didn’t know what to do, except to try to evacuate the as fast as possible, but apparently the boy had talents other than blowing up our city.”  He paused, and Annabeth ground her teeth.  A witness’ statement wasn't supposed to be a one-sided politician’s speech, yet Octavian spoke as if in a theatre.  “I thought the smoke was from the Greek fire before I realised that he was on fire himself.”

The sneer thrown behind him lasted a fraction of a second, but Annabeth got the message.  She tried not to flinch.

“On… fire?” Reyna’s back was turned to her, but Annabeth could imagine her bemused expression.

“Yes.  Normal, non-magical fire - aside from the amount of it and the fact that it was coming _from_ him."

The automatons looked irritated, but remained still.  Reluctantly, the praetor turned to Annabeth.  “Any explanation for this?” 

Annabeth looked Octavian in the eye.  “Leo’s a son of Hephaestus - Vulcan, to you - and he has fire powers.  I’m not surprised that the eidolons took advantage of them.  It probably wasn’t his fault, anyway; one of your cannons fired on the ship.”

“That would be a nice explanation if the rarity of fire powers in children of Vulcan wasn’t as high as it was,” Octavian dismissed.

“My dogs can detect lies, Octavian,” Reyna clipped.  “in case you forgot.  That wasn’t a lie, and if Valdez was a member of the Prophecy of Seven, then it’s unsurprising that his father blessed him with control over flames.”

“If this is an issue of morals, why are you working so hard to defend the traitors?” Octavian challenged.  Reyna’s body language would have probably told anyone else to stop talking as quickly as possible, but the augur continued.  “If the so-called seven are characterised by rare powers, what was the daughter of Minerva doing in that ship in the first place?” 

“Athena,” Annabeth snapped.  She felt the guards’ grips tighten.  “I’m a daughter of Athena, and I'm part of the seven because of the quest my mother sent me on; a quest to follow her Mark and reunite our camps, and one that I should be completing right now, but instead I’m standing with my hands tied behind my back and pleading not guilty to treason it’s pretty damn obvious I didn't commit.”

Her outburst had apparently shocked the senate into silence.  Even Reyna blinked before eventually speaking.  “Chase, I will not say again that you are not to speak without permission.”  Annabeth threw Reyna a sunny smile, but Reyna looked anything but happy.  “Octavian, is there anything else you would like to add to your statement that isn’t more increasingly far-fetched accusations?”

Octavian’s nostrils flared.  “Apart from the fact that my robes were literally on fire and I was flung from a rope ladder by the son of Neptune, I don’t.”

Slowly, Reyna turned to face Annabeth.  “Is there anything that you disagree with from the witness’ statement?”  The intensity of her stare conveyed the rest of a message she couldn't put into words -  _this is your chance.  Use it._

“I was in the city with you; I wasn’t on the ship, so I can’t speak for what happened there,” Annabeth said quietly, all humour disappearing.  It wasn’t as if she’d never spoken knowing that her choice of words could mean the difference between her life and death, but she had never done so in this kind of situation.

“Okay.”  Reyna opened the folder and flicked through, before pushing the papers back inside.  “You swear that you will tell only the truth in your statement?” 

Annabeth swore on the Styx, and Reyna nodded.  “I’m going to assume that you won’t deny that you and your friends escaped as fast as possible when you arrived back at the forum.  Would you care to tell us what happened then?” 

Her heart was beating too fast, and she wanted to be sick.   _Get it together, Annabeth.  Now is not the time to panic._

“We got on the ship, and Leo... there was something wrong.  He had this dazed expression, and he was moving almost robotically, murmuring “destroy them, destroy them all” as he restocked the ballistae.”  Annabeth winced.  “Percy tackled him and knocked him out.”

“Has he woken up by now?” Reyna asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah, he came around a couple of hours later.”

“And?”

Annabeth swallowed, not wanting to risk fabricating her story with the lie-detector automatons so near, but not sure how to make the truth seem innocent in the face of angry Romans.  “He said he remembered firing the ballistae,” she said, feeling dizzy.  “But that it felt more like he was watching himself do it - like he was a passenger in his own body, I guess.” 

Reyna’s brows were furrowed.  “Who would be the driver?”

“Eidolons?”

“Do you have any evidence of eidolons, or were they just a fitting reason for Valdez’s behaviour?”  Her tone was cutting. 

Annabeth felt her palms grow sweaty.  “I’m not making up the eidolons, Praetor.  The day after the… attack, Piper, Jason, and Percy followed a vision to Kansas.”  She hoped that Reyna’s emotions concerning Jason and Piper wouldn’t affect her reasoning.  “Once there, the eidolons took over the boys, possessing them completely, and… well, they fought.  It would have ended badly had Piper not used her charmspeak.”

“You’re not lying,” Reyna said slowly, her voice slightly constricted as she studied her dogs.  “But that has nothing to do with Valdez.”

“Later on, at dinner, Piper and Hazel insisted that the eidolons were still on the ship - at the table,” Annabeth explained.  “Piper used her charmspeak again, and managed to force them out."

“Even if your team was infiltrated by spirits, it doesn't prevent you from being partially accountable for Leo Valdez's actions,”  Reyna said tightly.  She was smothering desperation, and Annabeth realised that she really was the only one able to get herself out of this.  There wouldn't be a rescue, and Reyna could only do so much before she was condemned for aiding an enemy.  The only person able to save Annabeth was herself, and it wasn't going well.

“I’ve only known Leo for maybe eight months, but he wouldn’t do something like that,” Annabeth insisted shakily.  “We’re part of a prophecy to defeat the earth goddess - why would we hurt your city and your people because of an ancient grudge over a single statue?  Didn’t you fight in the war against Kronos?”  She was looking to the senate now.  “I’ve been at my camp since I was seven years old.  The only reason I made it there was because I made friends - Jason Grace’s sister, Thalia, and a boy called Luke.”

Octavian laughed out loud.  “Jason doesn’t even have a sister.”

Thirty pairs of eyes looked to Reyna, who swallowed and shook her head.  “He does.  Obviously, he came here when he was only two, but he remembered a sibling.  He didn’t think she was alive.” 

“Luke was like my brother,” Annabeth continued after a moment.  “He was a son of Hermes, and I guess he was bitter about that.  His dad had never really paid attention to him, and when Percy and I were twelve, he revealed himself as having switched sides.”

Silence. 

“For years, until Percy’s sixteenth birthday, the eighteenth of August last year,” - the entire room tensed at the date - “it…  He was like my brother.  He was my best friend, and he turned to the enemy in an attempt to destroy the world and everyone on it.  Including me.  Including Thalia.”

It was so painful to talk about, but she pushed on.  “He gave himself entirely to Kronos; he gave his body to host the Titan.  Until the very last moment, it was going to work.  I don’t even know how it happened, but Luke regained control long enough to ask for my knife.  I...  I gave it to him.  He sacrificed himself to save the world that day, and I watched so many others die; people that I grew up with.  People that had done nothing wrong.  Anyone who was in the Battle of Manhattan knows that I and my friends would never purposely fight against other demigods.”

Her words seemed to have some effect, at least, but the stunned expressions didn’t ease the lump in Annabeth’s throat.

Octavian stepped forward again, and Annabeth’s trembling switched from upset to anger.  He spoke anyway. “You can’t seriously trust a Greek; and it’s ridiculous to assume her innocence from a few convenient events and a sob story.” 

“Octavian, enough,” Reyna said threateningly, but her expression was pained.  “Senate…” she turned to the front row of seats.  “Your call.  Majority vote wins.  If Annabeth Chase is found guilty of being a traitor of Rome, she will be subjected to capital punishment as standard.  If found not guilty, we get her back on her ship as fast as possible so she can supposedly save the world.  No one may abstain.”

Annabeth tilted her chin up determinedly, fighting against the tension in the room in what little way she could. 

“Hands raised for not guilty?” 

One.  Two.

“Hands raised for guilty?”

Annabeth’s heart sank as fast as her death sentence was decided.

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed.  Reyna was the first to recover, and she didn’t bother to hide her disgust.  “So much for morals.  You’re all obliged to be at the execution, which will be scheduled for tomorrow morning,” she snapped, marching over to the back of the podium, where Annabeth’s shocked guards were barely guarding her. 

Annabeth pretended not to notice the way the praetor’s hands shook as she pulled her keys out.  She made to direct the guards towards the door, before being interrupted by Octavian.

“I understand that you have waived formalities, but in a circumstance such as this there is more that must be discussed with the senate once the verdict is reached -” 

“For the gods’ sakes, Octavian, don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Reyna said, harshly.

He spread his hands innocently.  “I’m helping you out, Praetor.  You can’t just _leave_ because it suits your emotional state.”

For a second, Annabeth could genuinely see Reyna setting her dogs on Octavian, and from the way her guards stepped nervously backwards, she wasn’t the only one.  Reyna, however, took a long breath and slowly dropped the bunch of keys into the skinny augur’s waiting palm.  “First cell as you enter,” she hissed.  “And _no_ violence will be necessary.  You two, escort the prisoner.”

The guards nodded silently and Octavian smirked as Annabeth was led out of the senate house, followed only by the uncomfortable eyes of the front row.

What were you supposed to feel when faced with execution the next day?  The only thing going through Annabeth's head was utter bemusement at her lack of emotion.  She'd known what would happen when she gave herself up, yet optimism had played its part in making the outcome a shock.  Still, she didn't feel particularly upset or angry or frightened.

It had apparently rained; a shower that made the climb up muddy grass to the camp a lot harder than it should have been.  Annabeth gritted her teeth and did her best not to slip, but Octavian had other ideas. 

Annabeth's confusion switched to the burning rage she’d compressed for the past two days the instant he tripped her.  The guards tried to catch her, but she fell face down into the mud, her tied arms twisting painfully.

“You are an actual _child_ ,” she growled, rolling to her feet and pulling her legs up to kick the rope off her hands.  Dazed, she lunged towards Octavian, punching him in the jaw so hard that he collapsed onto the ground.

Breathing heavily, she snatched the keys from where they had landed a foot away, and shakily handed them to one of the shell-shocked guards.

She stared at them as if Annabeth had dropped a bomb into her hand.  “You’re just giving yourself up?"

Annabeth forced a laugh.  “Of course.  What else could I do?” 

The soldiers had a silent conversation that lasted an age before the other spoke.  “You could make it,” she suggested, cheeks burning.  “This isn’t right.  We’d be blamed, but your mission -” 

“I…” Annabeth’s throat felt like it was closing up.  Two strangers - enemies - were offering to sacrifice their positions, and maybe their lives, for her.  The younger girl couldn’t be older than fourteen.  “Thank you.  I… I know I could make it, but Rome would have to take it out on my friends.  My camp.  I’m not worth that.” 

“If you say so.”  A pause.  A dry chuckle.  “Then I guess we can keep this conversation to ourselves?”

“Of course,” Annabeth promised.  She tried for a smile.  “I’m not that bad a person.” 

“We know,” one assured.  “Come on, then.  Try to walk as if you haven’t broken out of your bonds, because I don’t have any more rope on me.”

 

* * *

 

In another situation, maybe she would have appreciated the last hours of her life dragging on for what seemed like years, but Annabeth just wanted the night in the tiny cell over and done with. 

The only noise was her own breathing and the occasional sound of someone - presumably Reyna - stomping around the main principia.  Annabeth hadn’t seen the praetor at all since the trial, and wasn’t sure why she had expected to.

Maybe an hour after the principia door had finally slammed shut, the sound resonating through the building, Annabeth sat up, cursing herself.  She was going to die tomorrow and leave her friends to fight this war and live their lives without her, and she wasn’t casting them a single thought.  It was mostly because even a flash of their faces in her head made her want to sob, but she had to do something.

Staying awake was exhausting, especially when the only stimulation she had was blue walls and the vague thought of what she wanted to do when Reyna arrived in the morning.  Of course, there was a chance that no one would turn up at the principia until it was time for the execution, but Annabeth tried not to consider that possibility. 

Finally, a crash of doors indicated the return of at least someone.  Annabeth made herself listen for a whole minute to check that it was Reyna, but when she accepted that the squeak of a heavy chair and slam of a filing cabinet was the most confirmation she would get, she shakily stood.

“Reyna?” she called uneasily, wincing.  Her own voice sent a thud of pain through her already sore head.

For a long time, nothing happened.  Annabeth was considering shouting again when at last there was a clatter of keys and Reyna trudged, glaring, into the corridor.  “First name?”

“If you think I’m going call you “Praetor”, you can think again,” Annabeth said, an eyebrow raised.  She studied her face.  Reyna looked more exhausted than Annabeth felt; her eyes were red-rimmed, and her posture was uncharacteristically slumped. 

She brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear and sighed.  “What is it?”

Annabeth crossed her arms.  “Can I get a pen and some paper?”

Reyna blinked. “Why?”

"Since I’m going to be executed today and I haven’t said goodbye to any of my friends, I obviously want to make origami.”

For a second, Reyna looked so annoyed that Annabeth thought she’d botched her chances of saying any goodbyes with her sarcasm, but she huffed and unlocked the cell door before marching back upstairs.

Unsure what to do, Annabeth slipped out of the cell and followed.  Reyna was kneeling at a cupboard.  She rummaged through it, before emerging with a handful of foolscap and a cheap black ballpoint pen that looked painfully like Riptide.  Apparently Reyna noticed the similarity, because she swallowed and dropped the pen back into its box before standing and dumping the paper on the long desk. 

“Sit down,” she said awkwardly, gesturing to the other praetor’s chair and rolling a thick purple pen across the tabletop.  “I, uh, escaped the dyslexia gene, so if you need any words spelled…” 

Cautiously, Annabeth slid into the high-backed chair and stared at the blank page.  “Thank you.”

Reyna settled back to her own paperwork, scowling as if it had personally offended her.  Chewing her lip, Annabeth picked up the pen and tried to start writing, but she managed a single vertical line before dropping it.  What did you start a letter with when you were apologising to your boyfriend for sacrificing yourself?   _To Percy_?   _Dear Percy_?   _Just Percy_?  Or should she just go right into the _I’m sorry for giving myself up to the enemy, but if it’s any consolation I do still love you more than anything_?

With slightly more force than was probably necessary, she pushed the sheet away and started writing to Thalia instead, pouring out meaningless words that would hopefully give the girl who was like her sister something to remember her by as the Huntress lived for the rest of eternity. 

The page filled quickly, partly due to the messiness of Annabeth’s rushed writing and partly due to how much she wanted - needed - to say.  She found herself shakily signing the bottom margin a lot faster than she’d expected to, and reluctantly pulled Percy’s unwritten letter back towards her.

Trembling at the knowledge that these were the last words she’d ever be able to say to him, she scribbled about three lines’ worth before the first tear smudged the ink.  Somehow, she hadn’t even realised she was crying, but she was shaking and aggressively wiping her eyes and hopelessly attempting to suppress her choking sobs.  Sadly, Reyna glanced up and wordlessly slid a packet of Kleenex across the desk.  Annabeth caught it with tremoring hands and spent at least five minutes trying to control herself.

“I’m sorry.  I'm being pathetic,” she murmured, trying to catch her breath without inhaling tears.

Reyna shook her head.  “You’re being braver than I could ever hope to be,” she corrected quietly.  Annabeth raised an eyebrow, and the praetor shrugged.  “I’d have broken out by now if I was in your position.”

“Yeah, and you’d have made it,” Annabeth said bitterly, blowing her nose.  “I’ve just sat in a cell and lost a trial.”

“Sometimes waiting is the part that takes the most courage.”

She didn’t reply, and Reyna stood.  “I’ve had maybe four hours of sleep in the past three days,” she moaned.  “Cutting down on coffee apparently isn’t an option when you’re doing this job on your own.”

Annabeth smiled slightly.  “So are you going to tie me to the chair, or…?”

“Oh, shut up.”  Reyna unlocked the top drawer of one of the filing cabinets and reached inside.  She hauled out a pouch of money and stuffed a handful of coins into her pocket.  “I’ll lock the principia doors.  Do you want anything?”

“It wouldn’t stay down,” Annabeth admitted.

Nodding, Reyna trudged across the room and shouldered one of the doors open.  It swung shut, and there was a sharp click as she locked it from the outside.

Annabeth picked up her pen, but could only tap it against the wood for a while as she read and reread the paragraph she’d already written to Percy.  It seemed to take her longer to work up the courage to set the pen to paper again than it would to actually write the thing, but she eventually managed, scribbling out her apologies and love in the most genuine words she could think of.

Signing the page felt painfully final.

“Pluto’s pauldrons, it’s freezing.”

Annabeth jumped violently; she hadn’t heard Reyna come in. “At least I’ll be warm,” she deadpanned, willing her heart rate to slow again.

Spluttering coffee, Reyna choked something out about the most morbid thing she’d heard that year as she slipped into her seat.  Grinning, Annabeth carefully read over the letter before meeting the praetor’s gaze.

Reyna was studying her rather than the paperwork, her expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement.  When she realised Annabeth was looking, she raised an eyebrow.  “Any particular reason why Octavian has a broken jaw?”

“I didn’t know I punched that hard,” Annabeth admitted, laughing.  She paused, pushing the finished letter away and grabbing a new sheet of foolscap before she spoke. “What’s his problem, anyway?” 

“I don’t even know where to start with him,” Reyna sighed, staring at the form she was meant to be filling in.  “Octavian has a huge family - very rich and very influential, but huge.  His name literally means “born eighth” in Latin."

“Great way to tell your kid they're appreciated,” Annabeth said, drily.

Reyna shrugged.  “He’s a legacy - I think his mom’s a daughter of Apollo, but I can't remember whether his dad's a demigod or mortal.  Basically, he had the best head start you’d need in our camp, except for his utter lack of power and vague insignificance in the face of everyone else in his family.”  Annabeth looked down, listening to the praetor speak as she scribbled out another letter.  “I guess he would have been a candidate for praetor if Jason hadn’t been here, but you can’t exactly deny a son of Jupiter the position when he’s been there since the age of two.  He tried to suck up to Jason in case he got praetorship when the old praetors retired, and then I came along,” she said, laughing slightly.  “I don’t know.  Jason and I became best friends within a couple of months and Octavian realised he didn’t have a chance.”

“So he just took his anger out on teddy bears?” Annabeth raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Reyna summed up.  “That, and on Jason and I.  He’s literally the most spiteful, malicious person I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

“Circumstance can do a lot to a person.”

“Don’t defend him, Chase” - Annabeth tried to protest, but Reyna waved her off - “I highly doubt he would be much nicer if he was an only child or if he’d ended up as praetor.”

“I wasn’t defending him,” Annabeth argued.  “He campaigned for my execution then tripped me while my hands were tied.”

“I was wondering what happened to my shirt,” Reyna said, more playful than bitter as she scrutinised the dried mud that all but covered the other girl.

Annabeth rested her hand on the table.  “You must have genuinely thought I’d win when you gave me your clothes,” she murmured. 

Reyna watched her for a moment, then shook her head, her smile fading.  “Honestly?  I didn’t.  A pair of jeans and a cheap shirt is easily replaceable.  A chance for you to live isn’t.”

“Oh.”  Annabeth swallowed, and went back to writing.

Hours passed in an almost companionable silence, broken only when Reyna cursed herself for circling the wrong option or when Annabeth asked for help with a word's spelling.  She found herself writing to people she’d never expected to want to say goodbye to; she just poured out her feelings in a desperate attempt to redeem, to excuse herself and her sacrifice.

“Annabeth?”

She glanced at Reyna, then at the clock on the back wall; the praetor’s expression and the position of the hands put the pieces together.  Her breathing quickened; she found herself concentrating more on her heartbeat, the way blood rushed through her head as she stood, the cool sheets of paper in her sweaty hands as she bundled up her letters and shakily held them across the desk.  “Make sure they get them,” she said, her voice stronger than she’d expected.

Reyna stared numbly at the foolscap for a few long seconds before gently taking them.  “Of course,” she promised quietly, slipping them into a drawer and making her way around the desk.  They stood facing each other, neither making a particular move until Annabeth realised she recognised the way the corners of Reyna’s mouth twisted, the sadness in her eyes.  She’d seen this expression a thousand times on Percy - the way he’d glance at her when they were in danger, the look of hopelessness and longing and love.  She felt her cheeks flush as she stepped backwards, and Reyna shifted her gaze.

“It wasn’t meant to end this way.”  Reyna’s words were choked.

“What alternative is there?” Annabeth asked softly.  “I made my choice and you made yours, and we’ve ended up here.”

“Yeah, well…” Reyna exhaled.  “Maybe they weren’t the right choices.”

“It’s too late to look back now.”

“True.”  Reyna blinked furiously and crossed the room to a filing cabinet.  “We’ll fight for you, okay?” She glanced towards Annabeth, her braid falling over her shoulder.  “You don’t deserve this.  This isn't what was fated - it isn’t right, I can feel it.  But... we'll destroy what led to it.  We’ll defeat Gaia and we’ll do it in memory of your fighting, even if you can’t fight with us.” 

“Very motivational, Praetor,” Annabeth said, trying to hide the tears that were building in her throat.

“Suck it up, Chase.” Reyna turned back to the filing cabinet and pulled something out, flashing gold.  “You'll go to Charon, right?”

“Uh, yeah - where did you get that?” Annabeth’s stomach turned at the sight of the golden drachma.

Reyna studied the coin.  “I went through your pack before it was taken as evidence.  I found... I found your mother’s coin.”

“The one with the owl?” 

“Yeah.  I don’t have it, though; I left it in the bag.  I thought if anyone saw it and realised that your quest for the Mark wasn’t futile…” 

“Reyna?”

The praetor closed her hand around the gold and met Annabeth’s eyes without speaking. 

Annabeth felt her shoulders tighten as she tilted her head upwards.  “Thank you.  I know you’re blaming yourself, but…  you’ve risked your position and your dignity for me, and you’ve done everything you can, and I appreciate it, okay?” 

A small smile touched Reyna’s face.  “You’re welcome.  I just wish I hadn’t lost the fight.”  She crossed the principia again and slipped the coin into Annabeth’s pocket.  Her fingers drifted to the camp beads around the Greek’s neck.  “Do you want…”

“I forgot I was wearing them,” Annabeth said.  “Can you give them to Percy?”

Reyna nodded, carefully loosening the cord and dropping the necklace into the same drawer as the letters.  From another, she produced a length of rope.  “I take it you know the drill by now?”

Annabeth felt a chill run down her back as she allowed the girl to tie her wrists. Reyna placed a hand on her shoulder and gently spun her around until they faced each other, inches apart.  “I guess this is it, Chase.” 

“I’d shake your hand, Praetor, but…” 

Reyna laughed uneasily.  For a moment, she seemed conflicted, but then she stepped forward and hugged Annabeth.  It was a pretty awkward hug with only one pair of arms involved, but Annabeth leaned into Reyna’s shoulder and shut her eyes tightly for the precious few seconds the embrace lasted for; some of the last few seconds she’d ever live through.  This would likely be the last affectionate contact she'd ever have from another person, and the thought shook her more than the thought of her upcoming death.

“Come on,” Reyna said, straightening up.  Annabeth watched her as she masked her feelings from showing on her face - hiding away the fear and resent and hurt into an admirably neutral expression.  She quickly pulled her armour on, and led Annabeth out of the principia.

Guards surrounded her immediately, but the atmosphere was different; there was a regretful, reluctant tension in the hands that gripped her elbows and the postures of the two that walked in front.  The camp blurred as they walked and she felt herself panicking - this was too soon and too much and she should never have given herself up and this was wrong so wrong and she was leaving Piper and Percy and Thalia and Grover and Chiron and everyone she’d ever loved and it wasn’t going to help a thing.

Something loomed in the distance, and she realised with a start that it was a stake.  This was it.

Reyna started speaking - probably some formal excuse for killing an innocent teenager - but the words were lost to the buzzing in Annabeth’s ears.  She could barely concentrate on breathing, never mind what anyone was saying, as she stared ahead and tried not to collapse.

An order was shouted, and suddenly she was being pushed and pulled and dragged to the pillar that rose up as if she was in any shape to struggle.  Her head was slammed against the wood and a guard whispered a tearful-sounding apology as ropes tightened around her waist, her thighs, her forearms.  The whole setting belonged in a nightmare.

Far too quickly, she was apparently secured.  The guards hesitantly made their way back to the ground.  Annabeth tried to turn her head, wanting to catch a final glimpse of Reyna, but the ropes were everywhere.

She felt a useless adrenalin rush through her as her instincts caught up to how dire the situation was, but at least it cleared her head.

“Reyna?” she yelled, wondering what she was doing even as she spoke.

A tense silence.  Then, somewhere to her left, just out of sight, “Yes?”

Annabeth exhaled as best as she could with the bonds constraining her.  “Tell Percy I love him,” she said defiantly.  “And tell him that his fatal flaw has always been his personal loyalty, but from now on he needs to put me behind him and focus on the fate of our camps - the fate of the world.  Tell him I’ll wait for him.” 

She noticed some of the senators in front of her shifting uncomfortably, but Reyna’s reply was clear.

“I will.”

 

  
* * *

 

Once, Annabeth had heard that the most painful thing a human could experience was burning alive.  It seemed ironic that if Leo, the kid mostly blamed for the attack on New Rome, was in her place, he'd be completely fine, yet Annabeth was inhaling flame and choking back screams in an agony unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

At one point, she stopped caring whether she gave the Romans the satisfaction of hearing her scream or not.  She stopped caring altogether, just wanting it to end. 

And then it did.

**Author's Note:**

> I think this may well be the longest thing I've ever written, if I'm honest. The whole AU just intrigued me, and I definitely wasn't the best person to handle it, but yeah here's my shot at what I can only call Annadeath. (the document has been named Annadeath Chase since I started it I'm so ashamed). Thank you so, so much for reading, and maybe leave a review? There's a lot of things that need to be improved in my writing haha, but if you could leave a little advice or even just whether you enjoyed this fic or not I'd be so grateful!
> 
> edit: listen to Truce by Twenty One Pilots once you're finished reading this, especially if you found this fic sad. just trust me.


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